Not That Bad After All
by gzdacz
Summary: This won't be the best day in the life of Mike Ross. He will be late (again!). The printer will prove itself to be an uncooperative piece of junk. The client will prove himself to be an idiot and Louis will prove himself to be Louis. And Mike will get fired. Almost. Rated T for some language, but not worse than what you can hear on the show.


**Author's note: This is just a little something I wrote when thinking about sunny days (where are you, sunny days?), summer and motives frequently used in Suits fanfiction. Also, my first Suits fanfic. Also, English is not my first language, so I am very sorry for all the mistakes that are bound to occur.**

**Diclaimer: I do own one laptop, one phone, some imagination and a TARDIS mug, but I certainly do not own _Suits_. Oh well.**

**NOT THAT BAD AFTER ALL**

It was the worst day of his entire life.

Well, no, not the _worst_ day – that would probably be the one when his parents had died. But the second worst day ever.

Okay, Mike thought, there had been worse days. For example that time when he'd got kicked out of college, and he'd had flu, AND he'd fallen out with Trevor.

But if he'd had a list of worst days ever, not that he did or even considered having one, this day would definitely be somewhere amongst the first ten.

There is that odd feeling with which you can wake up one day, knowing already that this will be one of these bad days when nothing actually goes according to plan – well, not according to your plan, at least –, but you do not have the power to do anything to stop it all from happening. You open your eyes and you might not yet know that your alarm clock isn't working, or wasn't working when you needed it to, or that the printer's going to flip you the bird, or that an important client is going to be a dick, or that Louis is going to be a dick as well (although that was probably something Mike could have foreseen), or that you're going to get a bruise on your shoulder, or that you're going to get fired.

Alright, maybe that was slightly overdramatic. That morning Mike did not know any of this (maybe except for the part about Louis being... well, basically just being Louis), however he was not going to get fired. He was _almost_ going to get fired.

Which is probably the same as not getting fired at all, but that just doesn't sound that cool. There was going to be, after all, a moment when Mike would feel as if he was trying to keep balance standing over the bottomless Pit of the Unemployed.

So Mike woke up that Tuesday and didn't feel _anything_ like that.

It only occurred to him that maybe, _maybe_, this wouldn't be the best Tuesday ever, after he had glanced at the alarm clock, which had given him a simple and clear message that it was late. Very late, and they had a meeting with a client at "eight thirty sharp", as Harvey had told him, placing some unnecessary stress on the word "sharp", as if Mike hadn't been coming to work on time the whole week. Of course, it was only Tuesday, so it might have been his greatest achievement yet, but hey, thought Mike while chugging a glass of cold milk from the fridge, baby steps, right?

He had intended on getting to the office earlier, he'd even set his alarm clock on some ridiculously early hour, not only because Harvey had specifically told him to so that they could go through some files once more – they did have a trial in the early afternoon –, but also because he still had one last document to print out before the meeting started.

The document. Damn it, thought Mike, deciding he should probably skip breakfast.

He arrived at the office, holding a stack of documents in one hand, eight twenty five sharp. Or at least that was what his watch told him, because Harvey, who was standing next to his cubicle, had a different opinion about that.

'You do realize that when I say 'earlier', I mean 15 minutes earlier, not a minute and a half?'

They really needed to synchronise their watches, Mike thought and started to walk quicker, since he had a strange feeling he'd just heard his name in a voice that reminded him of Louis (or was he getting schizophrenic?). They would never be able to rob a bank if these discrepancies in time kept occurring.

'Yeah, sorry about that, my alarm clock—'

'I'm not interested in your life story.' Harvey waved his hand, 'Come on.'

He suddenly remembered the still-waiting-to-be-printed-out-in-exactly-two-copies-for-Harvey-and-for-the-client-document.

'Oh, I just... can I just pop out to the restroom for a minute?'

Harvey rolled his eyes. 'One minute. We'll be in conference room C.'

Fighting a sudden urge to ask a random associate for a high-five, Mike waited until Harvey had disappeared in another corridor and then switched his computer on, found the right document – just a short memo really about the firm's privacy policy – and printed it out in two copies. Well, meant to do that, in fact, as the printer refused to cooperate. He had come across many uncooperative printers, but none of them had been so stubborn that it couldn't be fixed by turning it off and on again. After that manoeuvre failed him for the third time, Mike tried bribing and then threatening the stupid machine, but before he'd got round to fulfilling his threat, he glanced at his watch and realised it was just the time for the meeting to start, and three and a half minutes late according to Harvey's watch, and he had the strangest premonition Harvey would rather not accept an argument based on his watch being wrong. Well, it was just a minor document, he thought. Nothing that their client would be interested in, since it was in fact Mike himself who came up with the idea of touching the privacy issue and had to convince the client it was necessary (not that it was necessary for the well-being of the client, but lack of the document could affect the company's employees, and Mike's moral compass told him that because he couldn't bring himself to care about the client too much, maybe because they never really got the chance to talk properly or because Henry Knight was kind of scary with all his muscles and a bruise on the cheek, he should at least care about the workers). There was a very small chance Arnold Schwarzenegger, as Mike secretly called him, could tell the document was missing and there was no chance at all it would pass unnoticed by Harvey, but that was something Mike could handle. Probably.

He shot one final death glare to the dumb printer and headed to conference room C.

Harvey was chatting with Arnold, playing it cool as always, when Mike came into the room, a bit flushed, holding the files in one hand.

'I see your associate's finally made it. Thanks for showing up.' Arnold said, eyeing Mike with amusement, and Mike managed to smile apologetically though he really wished the client had been sympathetic enough not to mention his tardiness in front of Harvey. 'Yeah, I'm very sorry about that, I just needed to—'

'Oh, don't worry about me, I understand. I just thought it could make you look unprofessional if it was somebody else sitting here.' he laughed softly, as if he hadn't known he just ensured Mike would get eaten right after the meeting was over. He decided not to give Harvey the opportunity to send him a death glare similar to the one he had given the printer a moment ago, only scarier, by not looking in his direction at all; he sat down and passed the files to both the client and his boss.

'I understand what you mean, Henry. We will ensure this won't happen again.' Mike wondered if Arnold could sense the smiling attorney sitting next to him was right now making a list of appointments he needed to reschedule in order to find some time to put his associate on a slab. He seemed to be the kind of a guy who could catch those subtle tones in one's voice that indicate whether the speaker is thinking of murder.

'OK, let's go through some of the most important documents, shall we?'

'I would also like you to take me through the... privacy policy thing? I didn't have the chance to look into it yet, as far as I can recall.'

This was the moment Mike decided Arnold Schwarzenegger was a dick. He watched Harvey nod his head and wondered why some people who have never cared about privacy policy suddenly feel like learning what it's all about and thus require the only document a poor, rushed associate didn't have the chance to print out. God, people were really dicks sometimes.

Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, he pulled a pen and wrote a short note to Harvey on one of the documents he'd put away. The client didn't notice a thing but Mike could tell Harvey did, because, though he continued talking and didn't look away from Arnold the Dick, he furrowed one of his eyebrows slightly, as if to say: 'You're scribbling on a case file, so it'd better not be a tic-tac-toe invitation'. Only after the client had looked down to read something, he peered at the message, and furrowed both his eyebrows before scribbling something back and focusing on Arnold again.

_I didn't bring the privacy files. _was what Mike had scribbled, deciding the best possible solution was to confess straight away.

_You've got 2 minutes _was what he got in return, and he noticed, before getting up, that Harvey didn't even condescend to waste the ink on a full stop.

'If you can excuse me for a moment, I need to get some water, I have a sore throat. Would any of you like some...?'

The client eyed him in amusement before shaking his head, and so Mike emerged from the room, took the right turn to the elevators and broke into a run, only coming to a sudden halt at his desk. It took him two and a half minutes to talk the printer into helping him out, and when it gave him two sheets of paper filled with black letters, he fought the urge to pat it on the back or somewhere else, to show how he appreciated what it had done.

He could finally relax a bit when he appeared in the conference room four minutes after he'd left it, files in one of his hands and a glass of water in the other; water he did, in fact, need right now, after his ridiculous attempt to get back on time. He once again found the client eyeing him, and he realized he looked as if he'd just run a marathon, which wasn't that far from the truth.

The meeting was over in twenty minutes, during which Mike did his best to ease his breath and slow down his heart rhythm, making plans about subscribing to a fitness club of some sort to prevent himself from sweating that much if such a situation were to occur again. Then Arnold said goodbye to Harvey, and Mike had a hard time stopping himself from asking him to stay longer, because, although he didn't fancy the idea of spending any more time explaining privacy policy to the guy, it was still a better perspective than being alone with a pissed Harvey.

But the client left and Mike was alone with a pissed Harvey, trying to figure out what was the right thing to say in such a situation – something other than 'That guy's a dick' or 'It was all the printer's fault'. After a minute of silence he decided to go with the most neutral one.

'Look, Harvey, sorry about the file, I had a...'

'I don't really care what you had.' came the response, and Mike let out a little sigh, because he realised he wouldn't get away that easily. 'Because people won't care if you had an argument with the printer or a heart attack, or a car accident, or bad luck: what they will care about is whether you are there on time, whether you look good and whether you have your job done.'

Mike tried with all his might to focus on guessing how the hell Harvey got it right with the printer, which would help him distract himself from what Harvey was saying. Would, if it wasn't Harvey saying it and if he wasn't using that tone of his that was reserved, as it would seem, for lecturing Mike on not sucking to be a lawyer.

'As far as I know, you managed to fail to do any of these things, and you made us look like complete idiots, which I don't recall any of us to be. So, for the trial, pull yourself together and have the damn files on time, will you?'

That was probably a rhetorical question, but Mike felt obliged to answer it anyway, so he mumbled a 'yes' and used all courage he had left to stop avoiding his boss's gaze and look him in the eye. They were eying one another for a moment, Mike trying to play it cool and Harvey playing it cool anyway, and then his eyes softened a bit and he said 'I'll meet you by the car half past one.' before walking away. Mike was pardoned.

It was just past nine and he had a lot of time to get the paperwork done before setting off to court to represent Arnold the Dick – or, strictly speaking, observe Harvey represent Arnold and have a whale of a time watching him crush everybody else. It was almost as good as cinema.

On his way to the cubicle he stopped over in order to make some coffee, trying to focus on the fact that Harvey had made it clear he didn't consider Mike to be an idiot and convince himself that made up for all his suffering. Glass half full, he told himself, and then splashed some freshly made coffee on his white, ironed shirt. Could this day possibly get any better, he thought before heading to his desk with coffee in his cup and on his clothes.

It took him only two hours to finish off the paperwork and he still had the perfect amount of time to pedal back home, change, eat lunch and get back to the office even before one o'clock.

So he did: he came home, he changed and he made himself some crunchy toast. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze that made it feel cooler than it actually was, he was in his apartment at noon, sitting on the sofa with his legs on the coffee table and eating toast. How could the day get any better?, he thought, this time without sarcasm.

He let his thoughts flow and then found himself wondering if anybody could consider Harvey to be an idiot. Probably not. People thought Harvey was many things: uncaring, cruel, reserved, standoffish, arrogant, but not stupid. Hell, some even doubted he was actually human – and Mike had to admit he too tended to forget that simple fact, but then there were those days when he was reminded of it, like that time Harvey had come in late and left early, and the hours he'd spent in the office he had been sitting in his chair, drinking tea with honey and coughing himself ragged. Mike remembered how he had had literally no idea what to do, and he had _had_ to do something, help _somehow,_ so around midday he'd stormed into Harvey's office, asking if there had been anything he had needed from the pharmacy. It was stupid, of course, because if Harvey had needed something, he would have asked Donna to get it along with another cup of tea, and Mike could tell the man had been about to give him an ironic look, but instead he had started coughing as if he were to die on spot. He had watched him in bewilderment, unsure if he should call 911, but then the coughing had stopped and he'd found himself being watched closely, before Harvey had asked him to stay and take his calls for him. That made no sense either, because Harvey had been perfectly able to manage on his own the whole morning, but Mike had been glad he hadn't insisted on being reasonable and he had happily helped out that afternoon, talking to clients with Harvey sipping tea and honey.

The memory made him consider the idea of making himself some tea with honey right now, but then he heard his phone buzzing. Surprisingly, it wasn't Harvey to ruin his sweet moment of laziness with a new case to crack; it was Rachel, however she too was about to ruin it.

'Mike, where are you? I've been looking for you for like 15 minutes now.'

'Hi, I'm actually home, I had to change before the trial...' he explained, feeling stupid for leaving the office at such a time.

'Well, you'd better come in, because Louis wants to see you. Like right now, no matter if you have something else to do, or you're dead or in Jamaica, as he put it.'

That was it for the day being awesome.

'God... yeah, okay, thank you. Could you tell him I'll meet him in... 15 minutes?'

'Sure. Hurry up.'

And there he was, pedalling back to Pearson Hardman with all the strength he had in his legs and all the breath he had in his lungs; judging by the amount of exercise he was getting that day, he didn't need a fitness club to stay fit – hell, who would have thought being a lawyer requires physical fitness? –, the white collar job he had was going to take care of that.

He only came to a halt after he had reached Louis's door. He knocked politely – in the end, it wasn't Harvey's office – and stuck his head through.

'You wanted to see me, Louis?'

He still kind of hoped it was a misunderstanding and seeing him was the last thing Louis wanted – hence the head.

Louis nodded. Crap.

It wasn't as if Mike hated Louis. He wasn't a big fan of him either, but he doubted anybody could be a big fan of _Louis_. Truth to be told, he was a good lawyer and Mike knew that; he was not all evil, he loved his cat and ballet, and music, and had watched some nice movies; he had his own way of liking Harvey and maybe he even had his own way of liking Mike. On the other hand, he also had his own way of hating Harvey and in the occasional battle between the two Mike was forced to take his boss's side, which upset Louis and made him develop some kind of a resentment towards him, or maybe he just felt he should screw with him from time to time, simply because he was _Harvey's_ associate. Louis wasn't the person Mike would trust, definitely not; he wasn't the person he would voluntarily spend time with, but he wasn't the person he would hate. He guessed he also had his own way of liking Louis.

Nevertheless, Louis wanting to see him never meant anything good. It meant more paperwork, if he was really lucky. It meant messing with his mind, blackmail and awkward analogies. But nothing good.

Mike sat down, waiting for Louis to speak. He waited. And waited.

'Sorry I'm late, I had—'

'I don't really care what you had.' it somehow sounded funnier when Louis said that. Maybe because Mike never really wanted Louis to care what he had. 'I've been meaning to talk to you.'

'Yeah, that's cool, but I just have to warn you I don't have that much time, I need to be leaving for court half past—'

'I've been meaning to talk to you, because I don't think we fully understand each other.' Louis continued, completely ignoring him. Mike tried to imagine a world in which he would fully understand Louis Litt, and winced. 'You see, Mike... let me put it like this: if I asked you who do you work for, what would your answer be?'

'For Harvey?' he answered, not sure what he was expected to say.

'See? NO. You work for _Pearson Hardman_.' Louis spit out, pointing his finger angrily at him.

'I don't think Pearson Hardman is a 'who'—'

'Pearson Hardman is like a mother to you.' Louis stated, not noticing Mike rolling his eyes _And here comes the traditional awkward analogy. _'It feeds you and clothes you, teaches you and protects you, stands by your side, advices you...'

Louis went on and Mike began to wonder where it all led and if it was at all possible it would lead to Louis having him salute and sing Pearson Hardman's anthem he'd written himself.

'Harvey's Harvey, but what you should be proud of is that you work for Pearson Hardman. In the end, where would you be without you mother, Mike?'

It took him a minute to get back to the real world – he was picturing Louis singing and it was fun – and understand he was expected to react here somehow.

'Uh—um—'

'Out there, on the streets.' Louis kindly answered for him.

'Actually, that would probably be with a foster family—'

'So I thought' Louis ignored him once more 'you should take a look at these.' He handled him a stack of files. So that was what it was all about? Some more paperwork? Why would giving him another pile of documents for proofreading, or whatever it was Louis was holding right now, require such a long intro?

'I'll have them done as soon as I can.' promised Mike and reached for the documents, but Louis laughed artificially and refused to let go of them.

'No, no, you got me wrong. I got you rapports on some of the most significant cases in Pearson Hardman's history. Just for you to get to know your mother better.'

If Louis called Pearson Hardman his mother again, he was going to strangle himself, Mike decided.

'Oh. That's very nice of you. I can't wait to read those.'

Louis smiled with this creepy smile of his that made Mike think of a shark who had just smelled blood. 'I know you can't. That's why I will let you stay here with me and read them.'

He froze and glanced at his watch.

'Louis, you know I can't stay here, it's one o'clock already and there's no way I'm gonna read all this in 30 minutes.'

'Oh. Didn't you take the fast reading course in Harvard? Too bad.' he said, smirking.

What the hell was it all about? Louis had been doing different things to set Mike off in the past, true, but he had never done anything that could sabotage a trial, even if it was not one of his own. He lived for Pearson Hardman and his evil schemes had never affected the clients. Making Mike stay here and be late for court was just... not Louis.

And then he remembered. This morning. He'd been so deep in thought about the meeting and the unprinted document, and in such a hurry, that he'd ignored Louis calling after him. He must have wanted something from him and Mike had chosen to pretend he hadn't heard him and he had gone straight to Harvey. Oh, and _other_ people must have heard it too – Louis calling Mike's name and Mike ignoring him for the sake of Harvey. Right. Humiliation. That explained it all, even the Pearson Hardman intro.

What was he to do? Humiliated Louis was not going to surrender until he'd got his vengeance. 30 minutes and far too many pages. But he didn't exactly had to read them, right? Louis would never know unless Mike flipped through them too fast for anyone to believe he was not skipping anything.

After performing the 'I am such a fast reader' act for 15 minutes, he was done and free to go, and very proud of himself.

'Finished.' he lied and got up. 'That third case... amazing. Anyway, I'll be leaving soon, so I'd better go get everything ready for the trial. Thanks.'

'You're welcome. And Mike, one last thing – page 17, fourth line? What was it?'

Shit. In his mind that line was blank as he had never read it. 'Um, something about a merger. Boring stuff. Well, I'd better be—'

'You actually think I fell for that little trick of yours? There's no way you could have read it all. Sit down and try again.' Louis was eyeing him in delight, sweet revenge or something of the kind. God, he really was a dick.

'Look, Louis, this is ridiculous! I need to go, I have a trial!'

'You mean Harvey has a trial. I think he'll do the talking anyway, why would he need you?'

'I'm—I'm an important moral support.' They were eying each other for a while, and then Mike gave up, sat down again and started reading.

It took him 35 minutes to read it all – maybe he did overdo it a bit with the fast reading act – and then he jumped straight into the elevator, cursing Louis and his timing, stacking all the papers in his messenger's bag and pulling out his phone. He dialled Harvey.

'Where the hell are you now, smart-ass?' he heard a voice. It didn't sound _too_ angry.

'In the elevator. I'm sorry, Louis's gone insane and he had me—'

'Well, I'm already on my way.' the irritation is his tone was significant, but there was also a tiny note of amusement there. 'Take a cab and I'll try to arrange half an hour later this afternoon to teach you how to tell time.'

That was the moment when it all could still change and Harvey would never get round to not firing him. He'd be a bit pissed, that's for sure, but after the successful trial he'd probably forget it and they'd return to their usual banter. Mike's faith was somehow still in his own grip.

But he decided to take his bike rather than the cab.

_Decided_ wasn't the right word to describe what he did in fact – it was more of subconscious reflex or something, because he would only take a cab when walking out of Pearson Hardman with Harvey and only on those rare occasions when Ray was unavailable or on vacation; besides, it somehow made sense for him to go for the bike rather than a cab when he was in a hurry – you could always try to ride faster but you didn't really have any impact on the cab's speed, and it felt better to be in control of that. Whatever the reasons, Mike got on his bike without thinking much and took off, once again pedalling with all the force he had.

He was five minutes from his destination and he still had about seven before the trail started (or, according to Harvey's watch, four and a half, still not bad) and he really thought he could make it. Mike was manoeuvring between cars, happy he wasn't stuck in the traffic as they were, he glanced left to see if they weren't any cars coming from there to ride him over and that was the exact moment a young mother with a three-year old toddler skipping lively next to her feet chose to cross the road. That was a mistake, as there was still one vehicle that was moving, even after Mike pressed the brakes so hard he thought his knuckles would explode. He turned right, desperately trying to avoid the collision, his bike was suddenly stopped by a bollard and he flew out of his seat, just to meet with the hard pavement a brief second later.

_Shit _was the first thing that came to his mind, along with a sudden wave of pain. He took a deep breath and tried to get to his feet. His muscles screamed in terror, but he succeeded, proving he hadn't actually broken anything, which was understandable, as it wasn't that bad of an accident after all.

_Shit _was also the second thing that came to his mind, as he looked around and saw the real damage that had been made. A damage far more serious than bruised knees.

Somehow, in this short second he spent in the air, his messenger's bag had magically opened (he had to work on not allowing his bags to magically open all of sudden – although last time it actually had some nice consequences) and the files, all sorted out and in order, had flown away, _literally_ flown away when the strong wind had given them wings. They were now scattered across the whole street, being ridden over by slowly moving cars and walked over by passing-byes.

His third thought should probably be censored.

The very cause of the accident was standing next to him, but it took him a moment to realise she was saying something, he was so struck by the disastrous view.

'Are you okay? I hope you're not injured.'

'I'm fine.' he said, his throat dry and his heart sinking. 'Doesn't even hurt anymore, don't worry.' It wasn't exactly true, as his knees and shoulder still ached, but the pain got lost in the panic that filled him right now.

The woman looked around the street. 'Oh, those papers! They weren't too important, were they? I'm so sorry, I didn't see you coming.'

'It's nothing, I didn't see you coming either.' it took a real effort to smile at her, when all Mike wanted now was to curl into a ball and cry, but she seemed to be concerned and her son petrified.

'You're gonna be okay here?'

'Yes, I'm fine. I should be going.'

'Okay then. Bye, and sorry again. Come on, Kenny, let's go.'

He switched to some kind of an autopilot: he said 'goodbye' to Kenny and his mum, he gathered his belongings, he closed the messenger's bag and he got his bike upright.

He had to call Harvey.

Yeah, right. Call and tell him what exactly? That he'd lost all the files on the case, because he dumbly refused to take a cab? That he would need to go back to the office and redo everything, and even if he did, the trial was starting in four minutes – or should be, because there was no way it could take place with all the documents gone.

God, why hadn't he taken the damn cab?

Harvey was going to kill him, but he would find out about the files at some point anyway, and it was more fair to tell him right now, so that he could postpone the trial without embarrassing them even further. He needed to call.

He tried to swallow a lump that had formed in his throat and dialled.

'Harvey?' he said, his tone of voice weirdly high and squeaky.

'No, don Corleone. Where are you? And don't tell me you're going to be late.'

'Harvey, look—'

'God, you _are_ going to be late, aren't you?'

'Harvey, I lost all the files!' he raised his voice. It was panicky and still way to high.

'What do you mean you 'lost' all the files?' Harvey's tone grew darker.

'They are all lost, scattered around on the street – look, it was an accident—'

But there was only a long peep after that.

_Shit._

He stood there. He just stood there, in the place of a catastrophe, thoughtless.

Okay, he said to himself. There are three possibilities here.

He could go back to the office and wait for Harvey there, knowing he would come and strangle him with his bare hands.

He could try to escape. Leave the country or something. That would only buy him some time though, because Harvey would find him eventually and strangle him anyway.

Then, of course, he could be very lucky and have a heart attack, dying on spot, and he could laugh at Harvey for being slower than he was from the Fake Lawyers' Paradise.

None of those sounded particularly appealing.

He sighed and started his march back to Pearson Hardman – he didn't feel like getting on the bike again today. It was, in the end, Harvey – maybe he would be so kind to stop after taking his eyes out.

_Yeah, Mike. Fat chance of that._

There was no way Harvey was in his office yet, so Mike hid away in the bathroom. It was actually pretty nice and calm there, and he considered staying there for longer. Like, forever.

He didn't even have the courage to go and see for himself if Harvey was or wasn't back. God, he really was a coward, wasn't he?

He took a deep breath – even two deep breaths, anything that could allow him to stay in the men's room a bit longer – and ventured out on the corridor.

Mike knew he couldn't keep his brave face too long, so the minute he saw Harvey through the glass wall, he got inside, afraid what might happen if he thought twice.

That was probably why he hadn't even noticed Arnold the Dick before after he was already in the room, just next to his huge, muscled body. The good thing was, Arnold hadn't noticed him either, he was so busy being absolutely furious.

'Look, Henry, I talked to the judge, we rearranged and the trial will take place tomorrow, so this incident will not in any way affect our case. And I know you have every reason to be angry—' Harvey, naturally, had noticed Mike as soon as he opened the door, but he didn't seem eager to inform their client of his presence.

'I bloody have! I thought you were a lawyer, not an idiot!' Mike frowned. Arnold the Dick was yelling at Harvey, and calling him an idiot, and calling him a bad lawyer, and that was just _not right_.

'I'm sorry, sir, but you need to calm down.' Arnold turned around, finally noticing Mike, and Harvey gave him a _you just had to butt in, didn't you?_ look.

'You're the one who lost those files, aren't you? You were meant to deliver them and you never showed up!' at least the client's rage was now directed at Mike. Which, when he thought about it, maybe wasn't such a good thing after all.

'Yes, and I'm very sorry about that, it was an accident—' he began explaining, but was interrupted.

'I don't give a shit!'

'Okay, I think we should all calm down a bit.' said Harvey, drafting Arnold's attention back to him. 'I am sincerely sorry about what happened and willing to make it up for you, so let's stop the accusations and move on to negotiations, shall we?'

Arnold laughed, but then something obviously came to his mind.

'Make it up? I know what you can do to make it up. You can fire that goddamn associate of yours right now.'

Mike would punch him, if he didn't know better that to start a fight with a client. Especially a huge, muscled, Arnold Schwarzenegger type of client.

He shot a glance at Harvey, noticing how his face stiffened.

'I'm sorry, but I always thought of myself as the only person who can make decisions about firing my employees.' he said politely, but resolvedly. Mike decided he should buy Harvey flowers for that. Though that would probably be awkward.

'You know what, I'll give you a choice: either you fire him, or I'll fire you. How does that sound?'

'You don't want to do that, Henry. Revenge on my associate won't get you anywhere.'

'Choose.'

'Henry, be reasonable.'

'I said choose.'

Mike was no longer in the room. He was standing on a cliff, trying to keep balance, because otherwise he would fall down, and it would be a long, long fall. He felt nauseous. Maybe it was vertigo.

'I have many clients, Henry.' he heard a harsh voice coming from somewhere back in the real world. 'And I don't like ultimatums. I would advise you to rethink that, or otherwise I'll be forced to show you the door.'

It was as if he was just about to fall down, and someone caught him by the lapels. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, and saw the office once again, filled with sunlight, with two angry men performing some kind of a duel of death stares.

And then Arnold the Dick stormed out of the room without another word, only to receive yet another death stare from Donna, who obviously had been listening through the intercom. They were left alone, standing there in the awfully silent office, still looking out through the glass door, though their (former) client was already gone.

'What the hell was that?' Harvey's voice cut the silence in half like a knife. A very sharp knife. 'You realise you just cost us an important client? What have you—how did you even lose those files in the first place?'

'I told you, it was an accident.' Mike said quietly, still not looking at his boss. 'I fell out of my bike and my bag opened.' He was already trying to come up with a reasonable answer to the next question, which would surely be 'Why the hell didn't you take a cab?'. But it wasn't.

'You OK?'

Wow. That caused Mike to glance – well, not at Harvey, but somewhere in Harvey's direction, and he saw he was now also avoiding his gaze, riffling through some files on his desk. What happened with the 'I don't really care what you had' nonsense?

'I—um—yeah, I'm fine. I mean, just a bruise—'

'What were you doing on a bike anyway? Why the hell didn't you take a cab?' Well, so he didn't totally suck at Harvey-related predictions. But he still hadn't come up with any legitimate reason.

'I—I don't know, I didn't think—' he uttered finally, which was much harder now, when Harvey's eyes were back on him.

'You never do, do you?'

OK, that was harsh. And completely untrue. He did think. Most of the time. Like right now he was thinking about the similarities between Harvey and an angry llama. There were more than you would have thought.

'Actually, I do think, thank you.' he decided to stand up for himself – he couldn't exactly make things worse than they already were, so what the hell. 'And I'm sorry for what happened, OK? I didn't lose those files on purpose and I surely never wanted to put you in a situation like this!'

There was a minute of silence after that, during which, Mike was sure, Harvey was considering what to do with him. Or what to do _to_ him. _Or_ what to do to him _first_.

He felt guilt rushing over him: Harvey did stand up for him when Arnold the Dick was there, and he refused to fire him even if that meant losing a client. That was – that was awesome, really.

'Look, Harvey, I'm sorry. And I'm really grateful for what you did.' There, he said it. Now he could be irritated with Harvey's harsh words again.

'Well, he was a dick anyway.' Harvey summarized without a smile, but Mike still chortled lightly.

'I know, right?'

'He was seriously becoming a pain in the ass.'

'Wait, I thought _I_ was a pain in the ass. So why did you keep me and not him?' he was seriously hoping for Harvey to go on in the bantering manner, so he sacrificed his dignity and called himself a pain in the ass _and_ made a little reference to the puppy analogy. Wow, he really didn't do things halfway, did he?

'You are, but at least you do some work for me. When you're not busy losing important files, that is.'

It was hard to come up with a witty response to that one, but he managed it all the same.

'Oh, right. But you pay me for being a pain in the ass, and he pays you. Like, a lot, probably. So I've been thinking maybe the real reason behind all that has something to do, you know, with the 'c' word you like so much—'

'You know what, you convinced me. You can go after Henry and tell him I've changed my mind.' It would have been funny if he had said it differently. But he didn't, and it wasn't.

Ooookay. So they weren't completely fine yet. God, Harvey wasn't the forgiving type, was he?

'Harvey, I'm sorry – how many times do I have to say it?' he groaned and was met with another angry glare that made him shut up instantly.

'You will come in on time.' stated Harvey, his eyes fixed on Mike.

'I will.' he promised, deciding that agreeing to everything Harvey said was the best strategy under these circumstances.

'You will have all the files on time.'

'I will.'

'You will take a cab to court, and you won't fall of your bike.'

'I will—that is, I won't—I mean, both, yeah.' his inability to speak was sure to trigger a snarky remark if not a smirk in a normal Harvey, but now there was no reaction whatsoever. Wait, and how exactly Harvey expected him not to _fall of_ his bike? That wasn't something Mike could control, was it?

'You will start wearing three-piece suits.'

'I will—wait, what? No!' he should really pay more attention to what he was agreeing to, which Harvey would have probably pointed out, like one of those lawyerly advice he would give him from time to time, if he wasn't laughing. 'We were having a serious conversation here!'

Mike could protest all he wanted, but it wouldn't be wholeheartedly really, because Harvey was laughing at him so hard and he couldn't help but join in, not because he had been framed, but because they were apparently over it.

'You should have done the whole Obi-wan hand gesture, too.' Mike chortled. 'Where are you going?'

'To tell Jessica I just kicked my client out of the building. She won't be very pleased.' Harvey straightened his tie, but didn't look nervous. Mike sure as hell would be nervous. No. He would totally freak out.

'Oh. Good luck. Um, do you want me to come with you?' _Please say no._

'No. You will go to your cubicle and rethink your life.' Harvey said, opening the door.

'Okay.' Mike was already deep in his thoughts, and it wasn't before Harvey was already walking down the corridor that he stormed out and called after him 'Seriously? Quoting 'Attack of the Clones' makes it lame, even if you just made me say I will actually go and rethink my life!'

He didn't turn around, but Mike could imagine a smirk on his face.

'Told you I have a strong influence on weak minds!'

_'Ha ha ha_.'

Okay. So maybe this day wasn't that bad after all.

**I hope you liked it - reviews are highly appreciated!**


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